Chapter 9
Rooftop Warriors
Street racing is like having the speed of Superman. You can go as fast as your car can take it: down ramps, sharp skids around street corners, going into maximum overdrive with a Nos canister to leave other racers in the dust. Some racers live their lives on the track, away from personal problems and society in general. Whether it's ten second races or going Nascar style, going at abnormal speeds can be a freeing thing for the experienced driver. And when it came to speed that was when a young man named Paul "Neo" Abernathy came in.
He was not Stilwater's typical street racer; typical as in not following the rules or even the playing field to lead other racers believing they can win. Paul had his share of races in Brighton, the docks, and Poseidon Alley. After a while, it all felt too familiar with little to no challenge involved. Ever since Stilwater was getting purple each day, the competition the road used to have has been for the prize money and not much else. Half the time when he used to race down the hollow streets of Poseidon Alley, he'd see drunken kids playing champion street racers.
They would cuss the big game, but small where it actually counted. As a child, Paul loved to put puzzles together, even helped his lawyer father, Ted a few times out of a dire financial stint, but the one thing he had going for as a child was not as common as opposed to artistic adults: innovation. Growing up Stilwater, there was no shortage of imagination, especially when it came to racing with some diverse characters. Being a bystander at these street races allowed him to come up with some bizarre race tracks in his head. Stuff like fire rings for cars to jump through, twenty foot pools made out of piping hot macaroni and cheese, traffic cones replaced by cages with ravenous cobras, and so on.
There was a new type of competition going down at Wardill Airport, taping live by a new up and coming show called "Rooftop Warriors". When Paul first heard they were coming to Stilwater, he felt his prayers for a racing challenge had been answered. The show was only a year old. It was a sky tour experience being taped via helicopter. Each week, there would be a race made by the most creative of racers who can set up courses that were both unpredictable and thrilling at the same time. They did shows in Miami, Dallas, East L.A., and now Stilwater was their next destination.
Paul was sitting in his house garage, working on his dark blue Hammerhead by adding some updates and finishing touches before doing a test run of the race track he and his friends have been working on for the past eighteen weeks. It was crunch time on all fours to make sure each turn, each obstacle, hell even the occasional "show off" moment to get the racer's good side were up to par. He was playing an old music video of Aisha's song, "Leave the Ho" while working on the lower suspension of the wheels when the volume did a complete 180 by going to a Channel 6 news update, causing Paul to hit his head on the bottom of the car. Jane Valderamma always did like to interrupt the simple pleasures like music videos he thought.
"What do insane obstacles, juiced up street racers, Scottish prowess, and rooftops all have in common? The recently acclaimed racing show, "Rooftop Warriors" is making its debut in Stilwater later next week. The show has drawn in 3.4 million viewers as they see the mayhem and the pissed off neighbors as their rooftops get rolled on in over 154 different ways. Yeah, that's how many since the first showing. I'm still in awe of that one race that happened in the Rio Grande. This will be a once in a lifetime opportunity for racers all over the city to build their own race tracks, and make them blow the mind of Scotland's Evil Kenneval, Ruthie Babs. I've managed to sneak in a quick interview with her as she was sky touring for a place to set the next episode. Those who live by the wind in their hair, take a look."
Ruthie Babs was a take charge kind of host with a daring perspective on what makes her races the most bizarre ones to view. Paul only saw parts of her show, but the one where he put his socket wrench down was the one that took place near the Atlantic Ocean. It was both his and Ruth's first time looking into the cool waves of the unknown as the show's budget allowed four empty, army platforms with huge, rectangular ramps connecting them with electric condensers on their sides. When a Humpback Whale decided to make his cameo, both thought the one racer driving a Camaro was going to bite it when he flew alongside the whale's left tailfin. The scene was shown in slow motion for the full effect.
The driver was doing a swan dive with the whale until he realized he landed on the final platform to reach the finish line. From that point to the end, the driver was going full on 007 style driving the car on its side; adrenaline at its finest. Paul and his crew have already signed up for the competition online and when Ruthie came on, he couldn't wait to represent Stilwater. He couldn't understand her Scottish accent half the time, but if there was one thing they both shared was taking risks behind the wheel.
"Hello Stilwater, Michigan! Looks like Rooftop Warriors will be a monumental grand prix in the land of the undercooked hamburger."
"Make sure you avoid the mayo too. It's great to have you with us, Ruthie with your harrowing schedule and all." Jane acknowledged.
"Me harrowing what…? Oh right, our show's staggering tour across state lines, making bank tellers cry of our Rushmore sized royalties…or was it that back lot project of a race taking place behind the Easton Bank in Kirkland?"
"Yes I remember. Your show almost got the ax from that incident. Anyway, for a year old racing show, it has really drawn in lots of viewers. You've actually inspired many creative minds of Stilwater to construct their own bizarre courses your show provides. But tell me something Ms. Babs…"
"Oh for bloody sake, call me "Ruthie" fair Jane. Formalities get dumped in the ecosystem when it comes to gnarly swan dives across the Atlantic."
"Okay, Ruthie. For those out of the loop about "Rooftop Warriors", please tell us what it's about?"
"Well for starters, don't eat before watching. Rooftop Warriors isn't for everyone. You can't fear heights, you have to allow your car to take a few hits...and somersaults, and it doesn't matter what model your car or truck is in. We don't discriminate which vehicle can make the highest jump or has the mass to make another car somersault towards ground level."
"Do racers tend to get severely injured on your show?"
"Do people have life insurance? Yes, people do get hurt in these races, but during my travels across North America last year, I've found daring life forms that want to take risks and push themselves to do something not many can do. Stilwater is my kind of city, Jane. You got Demolition Derbies, orgasmic high speed chases from news vans, hijacking semis full of expensive cars, but above all, a street racing circuit that used to have respect for the racers themselves. My show may define and defy the laws of gravity each episode, but after seeing the innovation from the race tracks I've seen through video submissions, it baffles me those hidden gems aren't noticed by the rest of the world. Come next Saturday, Stilwater is going to recognize the work of a hidden gem."
"I can't wait to see what Paul Abernathy from Shivington has to offer. He has become quite a popular driver when Chinatown's very own Lin Hitano passed away last year. I understand you are heading to Wardill Airport to showcase a preview of Paul's creation?"
"Tomorrow morning I and the heli-cam will be capturing the highlights of Paul's custom track. Who knows, I might throw in something he won't be able to suspect."
"You heard it right here folks. Tune in tomorrow at 9 A.M. on channel 62 to witness a new racer making for the history books of Rooftop Warriors. Ruthie thank you for talking with us."
"No problem, Jane. Race for the bizarre, lads and lasses!"
"I am Jane Valderamma: Channel 6 news."
Paul smiled as he nodded his head as Ruthie was going to recognize a new contestant that was going to break the boundaries of standard street racing. After an hour of building a new engine for his car, he sat in the driver's seat to test out how much it was going to shake the ground of the roof as he was driving. He kept revving the gas a few times to listen to that roaring sound over and over until he was satisfied with the results. However, one-on-one time was put on hold when he heard his cell phone going off in his jeans pocket. One of his friends and a mechanic at Rim Jobs, Chris, texted him to get his ass over to Wardill Airport to help them put the finishing touches on the track.
He ran in the house to change his clothes. All of a sudden, he put a slam on his breaks seeing his father passed out from Brown Bagger's undiluted sauce. He was once a lawyer from Legal Lee, making a comfortable living until Ultor decided they felt the need to look over each lawyer's portfolio of past clients and depositions. Every time Paul asked him what went wrong, it almost got him a scar on his upper lip. There would be days where they didn't speak, while other days drunken couch talk about Ultor being nosy bastards and planting some type of evidence that got him fired in the first place. He wasn't usually the one to be bitter over stuff.
After Paul's parents split up when he was four, his father seized the opportunity to become closer to his son. After all, his skills as a lawyer won custody over him. They've been thick as thieves ever since. If he was awake at the moment Paul was about to leave for the airport, he'd say he was one crazy S.O.B. for putting his life on the line in front of plane turbines, but street racing was just as much a passion for Paul as being a lawyer was for him. Now he was a couch potato surrounded by empty beer bottles and hardly any sunlight.
Paul grabbed a garbage bag from the kitchen and tidied up a bit before heading out. Ten minutes later, he stood over his father and gently whispered, "I'm heading out now. When I get back we'll uh…we're going to talk. Love you." Kissing his forehead, he got his gear together and drove out into the afternoon sun. What was his opinion about the Saints taking over the entire city?
To him, it was a lot better than getting ran off the road by the blue, ghetto white boys of the Rollerz. The Saints were really putting things back together, even their own mistakes, but there was one he couldn't really forgive them for. At the same time however, they didn't know who his friend, Kenny was. He got the news about his car exploding at an old Vice Kings stronghold past Frostworth Street a few weeks before. Police Reports said his reckless driving didn't cause the explosion; it was caused by someone else.
Revenge was a harsh bitch to keep buried Paul thought. He'd love to get some closure on who wanted to kill him for no reason though. Heck, every member of his racing crew wanted closure on the matter. Kenny was the type who didn't take life for granted and wanted to experience everything Stilwater had for fun. He kept such thoughts at the back of his mind when he reached Wardill. Coming into the airport after eighteen weeks of meticulous building, his crew thought the floor plan behind the track was a chain puller, but not now he thought.
Half the airport was shut down due to a severe gas leak from one of the planes and kept all flights grounded until further notice. Channel 6 sure had a great time calming down hundreds of angry passengers who couldn't use their frequent flyer miles. The construction of the track was a colossal piss off at times with the cops showing up every other day, demanding the track to be taken down. The crew found a way to work around that. He reached the west runway where there was the ten man crew either working on their cars or waiting for Paul to show up. Everybody got up with eagerness to start their test run before the demonstration the next morning. Chris, Herman, Jacob, and Tiko have been friends with Paul since they shared the same mind about putting dignity back into street racing.
"Finally where the hell you've been man?" Chris asked meeting Paul.
"We got worried you weren't gonna show." Tiko said holding a wrench.
"Eh, it's my dad. Same shit, different alcohol." Paul replied.
Tiko sighed and said, "Drunken episode, huh?"
"Wish there were commercials in the mix." He said as they were walking towards the meeting table. "I'll handle it. Where are we on the track design?"
"Track's all set, but there's a bit of a problem with lane two over by Docking Bay B. Those four cylinder tubes we picked up at the construction site; one of them is loose." Jacob said running up to them. "Tiko and I kept tightening up the bolts to see if it stays sturdy for the weight of our cars."
"It's the rust. We were making a trail of that shit on our way here." Tiko pointed out.
"We're going to have to pick up a new one around midnight if it breaks apart." Chris said.
"Guys, let's not worry our heads here." Paul told everyone. "We are on our way to "Rooftop Warrior" status. We put our heart and souls into this thing; all we have to do is test it."
"Yeah, for you…" Herman replied. "Jane V. was interviewing Ruthie Babs for our showcase run tomorrow. Not once did she mention all of our names other than Paul's."
Jacob cut in and said, "Bro, are we really going to do this right now; you know how media works."
"I know how Ultor works. That's for damn sure." Herman said.
Out of the five man crew that has been working on the track, only Herman and Paul had been affected by Ultor in a negative way. In Herman's case, he had a clothing line idea for hats and belt buckles. On his own time, he was fighting tooth and nail to get a sit down with the board of directors to pitch his ideas. Paul's father was still handling a murder case when he told him about getting Herman an interview. Once he got the opportunity to show his sample belt buckles, he felt like the lowly comedian being laughed off the stage.
It was the kind of situation where the jokes were so bad, they were hilarious. He put his ideas to the side to help Paul and the others work on the race track. To an extent, Paul understood what he was going through feeling rejected like that, but that was how Ultor did business. When an outside source has something to improve their own line, they have a tendency to be closed-minded. Herman didn't even get a chance to speak as soon as he put the hats on the table. Still, it wasn't anything compared to what Paul's dad had to endure. Everyone gathered around before Paul giving his thanks to their efforts over the past few months.
"This is it guys! This is our chance to make our mark in this city's history. A feat like the one we've been building has never been tried before, not even during the first few episodes of "Rooftop Warriors". This is also to put some heart back into the street racing circuit. I remember back when Chinatown was full of hit and runs, shootouts in the streets, there was no positive action going on around those parts.
That's not to say other racers haven't made an impact, just in my opinion not as big as Lin did it back in the day. Saints Row turned Westside Roller, fearless racer, and all round down to earth human being. We picked up where she left off Tiko, Herman, and I to keep our love for racing alive. There's no greater reward than being out on the open road, going where that road takes you. As for Channel 6, yeah, they didn't acknowledge all our efforts here; it's fucked up they didn't.
But let's agree on one thing: we all love Stilwater. The show chose this city as its backdrop, and we are representing neighborhoods like Ezpata, Little Shanghai, and Shivington. Come next weekend, we'll be winners. So give yourselves a round of applause, huh?" He said clapping his hands with the group cheering with him.
"Unlock your wallets ladies and gents! It's betting time!" Jacob shouted as the immediate members went over the format of the race track.
"Good to know fame won't go to your head, Neo." Chris said patting his back.
"Nah, never; that's not how I wanted to do this in the first place."
"Alright, let's go over the schematics one more time." Tiko said laying the blueprints out on the meeting table. "The starting line will be at Docking Bay A, where there will be three planes moving at parallel intervals as soon as the race starts. I already got three guys manning the planes. Once we move past them, we race regularly for a quarter mile around the bend until we reach the slippery skateboard ramps."
"Those were a bitch to put up." Herman said. "I still got splinters from all the sanding we did."
"They're spiral so we'll have to keep a steady hand on the wheel for about forty meters. After that, one pressure point from each of the four spiraling ramps will launch us onto carrying platforms which carries two drivers each. I don't need to remind you guys we have to time this just right before we reach the pressure points. One slip and it's an automatic disqualification. The platforms will then carry us to the conveyor belts with the huge red stage curtains. Inside is the real problem."
"Something wrong with the monkeys;" Paul asked.
"If you count putting Cabbit costumes and brushing their teeth to make those creepy smiles, good thing we were wearing suits." Chris chimed in.
"There was one episode on "Rooftop" where these three racers from Vancouver had to cross this big ass bridge with ketchup and steak sauce all over it. Strange enough, it was over a swamp of hungry crocs." Tiko said.
"Hold up, was it Stu who got eaten? If so, that asshole had it coming. Not all the crocs in that swamp would be good enough to chomp on his own ego." Herman brought up.
"Not to change the subject or anything, but what's the deal with Ms. Babs?" Chris asked. "She looked very different when Jane was talking to her. I wonder if she did something with her hair."
"Let's try to stay focused here; Tiko?" Paul asked her to continue.
"Unfortunately, our cars don't have bullet proof windows. We'll have to move through the conveyor belt quickly so the monkeys don't scratch our windshields. Once we're out, its' one right sharp turn to a single ramp through the fire rings and into the tubes. Jake and I have been looking for a suitable replacement at the construction yard. However, it will cost us $400 to take one. Midnight's our best bet to get it for free if the one we already have breaks down. I'll take point on that one."
"T, you sure you want to do that to your car?" Paul asked.
"Somebody's got to take the risk. I asked Chris, but he said he has car standards."
"It's my stepbrother's car! One spec of mud on the passenger side and he'll kick my ass." Chris exclaimed.
"You should've told me, bro." Paul said. "I know a guy named Lorenzo who sells old Destinies and Eiswolves for peanuts."
"We're almost done here." Tiko addressed. "The tubes go on a foot long. After that, we have lane three: the drift road that will take us to the front of the airport. There will be various traps such as engine disablers. Cops usually use these to stop racers from speeding. If one gets attached, the race is over for you. Darting eyes and swift turns are required in this case. Finally, if our wheels haven't been fucked over by the lanes before, we drift from Docking Bay C all the way to the entrance. It's a mile long so hope you guys got tire upgrades to make it happen, and that should end our track."
"Sounds good to me. Let's go test it out." Paul told them.
They all broke away and got in their cars to start the test run. Being behind the wheel in Paul's eyes, he was raring to tear up the competition in every way possible. Along with Tiko, Chris, and Herman, they all gathered at the starting line while Jacob decided to play the role of flag waver. However, the only thing he was waving at the time was a glock. Everybody got clear of the area while the four drivers kept screaming at him to point the gun at the sky instead of holding it gangsta style towards one of plane operators at a far distance.
"Ready!" He shouted four times as each racer revved up their engines. When the shot was fired, they all moved at the same time in their cars going about the course. A few hours later, Paul found himself heading back to his dad's home after a successful test run. Tiko took point of the uneasy tube and for the most part it stayed intact. Paul couldn't remember the last time he felt adrenaline in his system, and the amount of ringing that went on in his ears.
As soon as he went back to Shivington, he pulled up on the driveway of his two level house with the undesirables out and about, shitting on the sidewalk or drunk begging for a ride home. The neighborhood felt more remote than it was back when the Carnales were controlling it. Every day was a bloody battlefield Paul tried to actively avoid. If he hadn't gotten some gun training at a Friendly Fire in Brighton, he would have lost both his father's company car and their lives to a bunch of pendajos in red taking their anger out on the Vice Kings. Over the past few months, there was talk amongst the neighborhood locals about a new gang working underground drug circles to avoid conflict with the 3rd Street Saints.
Then when a new batch of thugs in red began shooting at them that said gang came up for air, and set up shop around the Projects. As far as Paul was concerned, they were just tending to people looking for a fix; nothing dramatic to write home about. Heading inside the house, the place was dark, all except the kitchen leading to the garage. He called out to his dad three times before meeting a youthful, yet well-built Jamaican hooker tending to his father's needs. Paul had shock on his face standing in the living room.
Nodding her head checking him out, she said, "Mm, mm, mm, good looking Shivington men are a dime a dozen. How much you bench, baby boy?"
"I'm sorry…?" He asked feeling confused.
"Don't be." She replied walking up to him and feeling gently touched his crotch. "I know he's not."
"Whoa okay!" He shouted stepping away. "Who are you and how'd you get in my house?"
"Your daddy; I came for his 8:00 swallow and I can't find him anywhere. Time is money, where is he?"
"I'm sorry I…don't know where he is. How much do you charge an hour?"
"Well, it's a quarter to now so I'd say…$275."
"Are you fucking nuts?! I don't have that kind of money."
"You don't pay up I'll just go directly to the General. I'm sure he'd settle this in a heartbeat, and I don't mean that metaphorically." She said sternly.
"Who's the General, your sugar daddy?" He asked putting his backpack on the couch.
"He is Sons of Samedi! As we speak, they move into this neighborhood to make their mark on Stilwater."
"Calm down. I'll talk to him." He assured her.
"You do that." She replied walking past him towards the garage door. "Tell him Eurina wants her compensation." She took a gander at Paul's car and said before leaving, "Nice ride."
If he didn't feel drained from the airport and having a celebrating dinner with his crew, he would have taken Eurina easier than any strange down in Sunnyvale. For a fourth time, he called out his name louder than ever before. He jumped a bit when he found out his own father collapsed out of a broom closet in the kitchen. He ran over and lifted him by his arm as he helped him over to the couch. For the longest time, Paul had taken pity on him for losing his job at Legal Lee; now it was just plain ridiculous.
Ted Abernathy: an "on the rise" lawyer for one of the biggest law firms in Stilwater, to being a pathetic, down on his luck drunk with no way of climbing up from rock bottom. "Jesus dad…" Paul said to himself when he felt his forehead, feeling like he burned his hand on a grill. He went to the kitchen to make an ice pack as Ted kept slurring meaningless drivel that had nothing to do Eurina or his life in general. At the very least, he thanked his own son for giving him something cold to feel other than the void he was trying to fill with alcohol. There was nothing but silence between them for five whole minutes until Ted said something relevant for once.
"Tha-that pretty lady who came by earlier, was she asking for me?" Ted asked, slurring his speech.
"Yeah she was, dad…"
"I can't believe she…took off." He said pressing the ice pack on his forehead. "We were playing hide and seek. She must've been one of those bitches from Steelport; don't know how to have a good time. I'm lost, son. If you weren't here with me every step of the way…I'd have gotten shot or…"
Paul was filled with repressed anger rather than pity at this point. He couldn't take the drunken stupors anymore. He interjected in a frustrated manner, saying "Who the hell are you? What happened to my dad?"
"Well I'm…I'm right here, son."
"Yeah, I see that." Paul replied standing up. "Jesus Christ. Do you even care what your life means anymore, huh? Is it going to be like this for me every single day: mopping up your puke, putting you to bed, screaming at mom over the phone? I can't take this crap anymore!"
"You can't take it, like you've ever been in a suit? I've been involved in over sixty cases; lost a few, won a few. Then Ultor came by and found a technicality in a kidnapping case: Vice King activity. Sit your ass down boy; time for you to hear the truth. I heard it straight from the bastard's mouth before he was sentenced to prison when his ass should've been sent to the chair. They kidnapped these teenage girls a few years back, put them in a darkened out house with no food and barely any oxygen.
Good thing I was the opposing lawyer representing one of the grieving mothers. My knuckles were whiter than the driven snow when Corey Daniels explained how he set the whole kidnapping up: the location, the number of kidnapped girls from 12-15. You know what he was doing the whole time?" He asked before laughing all of a sudden. "The asshole was laughing, like he enjoyed doing what he did. Then the mother lost it in lineup. By the time sentencing came, the judge sentenced him to twelve years at the Stilwater Penitentiary off the coast, out in six on good behavior. Nobody is innocent in this city, Paul; nobody."
"Shit. That's messed up in more ways than one." Paul said before his dad cut him off.
Ultor had performed some shady practices in the past as a clothing brand, but not at the capacity that led Ted to getting fired. The technicality was forged by Corey's lawyer, convincing the judge he didn't act alone. He said that he was under some strong prescription drugs that were inserted into his arm, making him go on a driving rampage to kidnap ten pre-teen girls. From what he understood, the decision to sentence Corey was forced by the judge's hand when he originally was to be sent away twenty-five to life with zero possibility of parole. The jury was present; the guilty stood ready for their punishment, but at the same time one board member from Ultor was there as well. Ted remembered him as Dane Vogel.
He wasn't high up on the corporate ladder. However, it didn't matter since he claimed himself a witness at Brown Baggers in Prawn Court. Ted couldn't remember exactly what he said; just a bunch of business jargon only a silver tongued fool like Vogel could pronounce. All he could remember was that Corey went in the store as a civilian; bought his liquor and walked out like it was a normal evening. Then when Dane came out, a few VK's jumped him and stuck a needle in his arm.
It was some sort of rage induced drug, causing him to go joyriding with them. Dane kept dressing up Corey's testimony with pretty words and influence that his actions were not his own. In the end, as a lawyer Ted felt Corey got what he deserved even though he didn't have to like the results. The damage didn't stop there though. He didn't know how Ultor managed to do it; getting his fingerprints on a caliber pistol and shooting one of VK's taking Corey away.
Dane labeled it as retaliation, an internal beef with the Vice Kings. Hearing his father explain himself, Paul became in awe of him opening up. They haven't had a straight conversation in weeks. Even with alcohol in Ted's body, he explained his situation as if he was rehearsing a play in real life.
"Being a lawyer ain't what it used to be. Justice isn't as black and white anymore. Did you know Legal Lee had a 3rd Street Saint run into some traffic so they can charter health insurance claims to make extra cash?" Ted sighed. "I took my case to other courts. Not one was able to overturn a technicality in evidence. All the facts were there, courtesy of Ultor."
"I remember you being away for three months without so much as a phone call. Dad, I didn't know." Paul said.
"I had a buddy up in Brighton. He's a…D.A. He handles narcotics cases. Luckily, my report on how Corey had LSD in his system on the kidnapping spree got my jail time reduced to 100 hours of community service. That was when the booze came into play. I couldn't be around you, son. It killed me not seeing that bastard getting executed." He said before putting his head down in shame. "God…I feel a hangover coming on."
"Come on, I'll put you to bed." He replied helping his dad off the couch.
"I'm sorry I'm putting you through my shit, son. I couldn't be there for you when your friend, Kenny died. He seemed like a good kid."
"He appreciated life. Speaking of which, I've earned myself a showcase spot on "Rooftop Warriors". It's a racing show; careers get made off their episodes. I and some of the guys will be at the track tomorrow morning. I'm leaving early to make some last minute preparations. It'll be taped live on Channel 62. It'd mean a lot if you checked it out."
"I'll see what happens." Ted said as Paul helped him on the bed and closed the light. "Oh and son, don't worry about Eurina. I know where she hangs out."
"Get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."
"I'm proud of you, Paul. You got this racing thing down. No matter what happens, I'll support it."
For the first time in a long time, Ted opened up to his own son about why he was acting like a depressed drunk with a plan. After Paul put him to bed and closed the light in his room, he went back to the garage to do some last minute tune ups on his Hammerhead before the big day. As he was working, he kept thinking what Eurina said about the Sons of Samedi moving into Shivington's backyard. It had been a year since the VK's had a stronghold in place in case the Saints stopped by. In some ways, Paul gave his dad credit for not being around as much he'd liked.
When the Saints started taking the fight to Warren William's VK crew, everyday was a battlefield within an already battle ridden neighborhood. Carnales on Vice King, sometimes the other way around, it was a vicious cycle of gang violence that only stopped thanks to a Saint named "Playa". Paul usually wasn't around the neighborhood as much either, only came back after a shootout or to work on his car. The house garage felt like the safest place to be in compared to the rest of the house. He didn't have to pretend to be hard or scared.
There was only him and his car. Still the thought of a new gang coming in kept dwelling in his head. He heard a few rumors about the Samedi, started building drug farms here and there, mostly around the west side of the city. Also, the fact he had a few rivals on the street racing circuit getting shit faced and not in the most common way. One of the primary ways the Samedi recruited was coercion.
Apart from them remaining neutral from the Saints, Loa Dust becoming a big brand in the drug underworld, they haven't caused any trouble yet. Either way, Paul was way too determined to win his spot on the show and went to sleep around eleven at night. Before leaving the airport earlier in the day, Paul, Tiko, Chris, and Herman all agreed to meet back at five in the morning to make sure everything was copacetic on the course. Paul grabbed a quick shower and some cherry licorice before seeing his dad out like a light still.
He softly closed the door and was on his way out without much as a blur on both sides of his surroundings. The adrenaline built even more when he drove past the race track. Every time he looked on it finished, he felt an overwhelming sense of pride in his chest that something like this was remotely possible. Paul made his way to the meeting table near the north side of Docking Bay A to meet up with his crew.
"Hell yeah! Big man's here! Let's do this!" Chris shouted in excitement.
"I've been waiting since Day 1, dawg. Y'all ready for today?" Paul asked everybody.
"We're ready to tear it up for "Rooftop Warriors"." Herman said.
"Neo, get your ass over here! We got something for you." Tiko called to him as they went over to her kiwi colored Bootlegger.
"She wouldn't stop talking about it." Herman told him.
"What you got for us, T?" Paul asked.
"Ok, the key to winning a race is to make sure you're faster than the other guy, but at the same time not crash and burn like an arrogant idiot."
"Right…" Paul replied.
"So, for the past five weeks, I've been working on my own Nos gas that's going to give all of our cars a jolt once we leap off those ramps."
"This by any chance wouldn't be the weed smoke you made with the banana split, is it?"
"That shit made me see walking bananas in brown fedoras. Koalas then started reciting the periodic table which is...weird because I failed Chemistry." Herman said.
"It's actually a Mexican food recipe mixed in with water vapors. It's a potent Nos gas that will cause other drivers to be thrown out of the race." Tiko cleared up before turning her head to Herman. "This time it will be Quesadillas singing the Russian National Anthem."
"Is that even possible?" Chris asked.
"She bought the supplies from Shaundi's drug farm. What do you think?" Herman asked.
"Come on guys, we're a creative team. Kenny would've jumped in at the chance to try this out on his car."
"Yeah, that's true." Paul agreed. "I'll test out the gas to see if it's safe for all of us. We got some time to kill before Ruthie arrives, so let's drive out to the track and make sure everything's stable, especially the uh…Cabbit section." He brought up while smirking at Herman. "Tiko, did you and H go to the construction site to get a replacement cylinder for the rotted tube?"
"The gates were already locked by the time we got there. It's bullshit!"
"They also added attack dogs, fucking attack dogs…with fangs." Herman spoke dramatically as everyone around him gave a weird look. "We'll just have to make do."
Time flies when you're about to be on one of the most extreme racing shows in North America. Three hours later, daylight came burning on the airport's ground as everybody waited in anticipation for Ruthie to arrive. Not a moment too soon, the sounds of distant propellers were drawing closer from the west side of the airport. It built up momentum when the two helicopters touched down. There were only the pilots, four cameramen to get aerial views of the cars, and of course, Ruthie Babs herself in her "Rooftop" fest. She presented herself in a theatrical fashion as she welcomed the drivers for putting their blood, sweat, and tears into making an innovative track.
It was already ten to nine. While Ruthie's adrenaline was flowing to get the show on the road, she had the four camera guys do a quick set up of five chairs and some umbrellas to block out the gusts of wind that were coming in. Before every rooftop race, she would sit the drivers down and have them give a little background about themselves, why they love racing, and Paul's personal favorite, what are they racing for? She gave the message loud and clear when she addressed that there were a lot of unknown drivers with hidden potential that should be seen in the public eye. Stilwater was definitely the place for innovation and excitement she told the group. After fifteen minutes of set up, she gave her introduction for the track showcase.
"Wakey wakey, you bloody lemurs! Here on "Rooftop Warriors", we have a new segment on the show where I travel 'round state lines to find the most innovative racers to showcase their fine talents. If a track makes the police shat Krispy Kremes, an exact replica of the track will be made on a rooftop in their own city. I'm here at Wardill Airport in Stilwater, Michigan where four talented racers from various towns show us what they can do. The four drivers who will participate in this showcase are Paul "Neo" Abernathy, Tiko Chan, Chris Knowles, and Herman Murdock.
Jacob Columbo will be setting the countdown of the race to start. Now, I've seen the architecture of the track's design. Regardless if you're living in this city or watching at home, you are in for one bloody treat. Before we dance on the extreme side, let's get to know our drivers first." She said before the cameraman jump cut to another angle. "Let's start with the man who conceived the idea of an airport racetrack, Paul "Neo" Abernathy. Say hi!"
"Hey, what's going down Michigan? It's your man, Paul and we're about to tear up Wardill and give a new meaning to street racing."
"When you sent your demo tape to our sponsors in Vancouver, I had my doubts about Stilwater as a whole: gang violence, drug deals, the occasional angry hippy van, but at the center of it all, a stout heart with enough pride to put this city in a positive light. So my first question off the bat is how did "Neo" work into your name?"
"Well Ruthie, apart from "The Matrix" being my favorite film of all time, every time I'm out there on the street, everything slows down around me. Not to sound cocky or nothing, but when every other racer is behind me and I'm a lap away from winning, I feel like I could sit back in my driver's seat and let the car carry us both to victory, you know?"
"Good description. Now for the other racers going from Tiko to Herman, give us some brief insight of how you got into this project?"
"Paul and I were rivals at first back when we did a few races in Chinatown. I normally don't give opponents the time of day because half of them are arrogant pricks, but Paul was different. The man had vision when it came to building new challenges. I'm also pretty good at setting the tracks in order from casual racing to the extreme so we started making the blueprints together." Tiko explained.
Chris chimed in next with enthusiasm and said, "It's been one hell of a project for the past eighteen weeks, Ruth. At first, I thought it was impossible to do something like this in a busy airport, but…when it came to its shortcomings they're pretty damn slow fixing them up."
Ruthie clicked her feet together and had wheels under her shoes. She then rolled on over to Herman to get his thoughts on the massive project. He spoke with absolute certainty, "You're in for one hell of a ride, Ruthie. As for racing in general, we're all here for the same reason Paul wanted to do this in the first place: to put dignity back in the heart of street racing. Here's hoping this opportunity would bring underground racers to the surface and see what kind of crazy shit they can do."
She then rolled from center frame back to Paul and asked them one last question of who or what they were racing for. The answers were pretty much what they have been saying all along. For Paul, it had deeper meaning. He spoke as if his dad was sitting in the stands watching his work come to life. He said, "I guess you can say it's "who" I'm racing for; my father, Ted Abernathy. He was a lawyer working for Legal Lee, on the rise to become the next District Attorney of Shivington. Some things fell through, he ran into some bad luck; hopefully he's watching this live right now. It's unfair how things turn out. He's a good man, a damn good one up until Ultor screwed him over. With this showcase, I hope he'll be proud of me and what I love to do. We haven't spoken in some time so…fingers crossed."
"Is there anything you'd like to say to your old man?" Ruthie asked him as the camera zoomed in closer on his face.
"All I can say is hang in there, dad. Ultor may have taken your job, but they didn't take away your soul. I love you, old man. I'm winning this for you."
As for Tiko, Chris, and Herman, they were all racing for a new challenge, representing Little Shanghai, hoping to get a free V.I.P. pass to Tee 'N' Ay. However, they all had Kenny on their minds when they told Ruthie he was a heavy, positive influence on all of them. It was because of his carefree attitude for what Stilwater had to offer motivated Paul and Herman in particular to go through the risk of making a race track at an airport. It pissed a lot of passengers off, but they didn't care about that. They said he was making some extra money doing an escort service for two high class sleaze balls when someone knocked him off the road, causing him to explode within a Vice King Stronghold.
As far as the police told Chris, no one else was at the scene; no suspects who might've caused his car to go up in flames. Ruthie took each of their responses to heart, and by the time 9:30 came a rolling, the track showcase was about to start. The four drivers made their way to the starting line towards the end of Bay A with Jacob standing in front of them, waiting for each racer inside a Hammerhead, an Eiswolf, a Tomkah, and the Bootlegger to rev up their engines. Ruthie's helicopter along with two cameramen kept a close watch on them while the other was showing different aspects of the track. Jacob in his purple T-shirt, representing the city of Stilwater got out his megaphone and shouted, "Alright, alright, alright! Stilwater and Saints Row are watching us! Let's give them a good show, huh?" He said as everybody had their hands at the wheel. He pointed at each car saying, "Ready, ready, ready, ready…GO!" All four cars sped off the line and were well on their way to their first obstacle.
Three other guys involved on the project were working some off duty planes, moving at slow yet dangerously close intervals. They went parallel from each other as Paul and Chris became the first to zoom through them with Tiko making some sharp turns around the planes and Herman moving behind her. "Shit, that was too close." Tiko told herself moving along the quarter mile. The engines were ferociously growling, tires screeching on the airport pavement, hearts racing across the board to reach the next obstacle. Before they knew it, they were on their sides maintaining their car's balance until they reached the pressure points. Chris became a little too involved in snagging the lead. He sped past Tiko and Herman while Paul cussed at him for not sticking to the plan.
Paul nearly missed his pressure point, but his reflexes directed him straight to it. By the time the three drivers got their cars up on the platforms while Tiko felt her heart was about to bust out of her chest, Chris's car went flying off the ramps and crashed. Luckily it didn't explode as far as everyone else knew. Seven seconds of breathing time before the next phase of the track granted Paul in particular to take a deep breath before getting lunged onto the conveyor belt behind Herman. For the next minute and a half, Ruthie stood in her helicopter biting her lip as she commentated on the race thus far.
"Keep in mind folks, the conveyor belt leading to the red stage curtains will have them out momentarily. What lurks behind the curtains though is something even I wouldn't put in a race; bloody monkeys in Cabbit suits. Once an urban myth amongst the far oceans outside the city, now a mental test to see which driver can't keep his shit together basically; too bad for Chris not seeing this in action." She said as she saw something coming out on the other end of the curtain, speeding off without so much as a few scratches on their windows. "Enough with the worry, let's get back to the rush!"
Tiko took the worst of the scratches, but she her windshield remained intact as she took the lead going towards the service ramp. Paul and Herman were probably thinking the same thing about Chris not being able to go through the Cabbit portion of the race; they couldn't speak for what his brother might do to him. He loved his silver Eiswolf more than he loved his own blood. Gusts of wind came flowing through, pushing each car off their beaten path if not for a few inches. Herman put his Cheeto orange Tomkah in overdrive when he drove off the ramp and into one of the tubes, going on his foot long journey to the other side.
Paul came up alongside Tiko as they were neck and neck and had no intention of splitting off into separate tubes. He then soon realized they were heading towards the unsteady tube that couldn't be replaced. There were only five seconds to decide which racer was going to take the risk. Both cars were in mid-air with Paul's Hammerhead in front; he gave Tiko a nod as they drove in separate tubes with Paul taking the uneasy route. The impact was loud and vibrating as his tires landed a third of the way though.
There was no turning back he told himself flooring the gas pedal. All of a sudden, his tube started to tilt towards the left; he kept both hands clenched to the wheel to keep the car going straight. His forehead sweated with sweat beneath its moist surface when he was seconds away from reaching daylight. Then, with the tube's foundation scraping the metal off the left tail end of his car, he drove out making a wide turn back on course with Tiko and Herman, taking a huge sigh of relief he didn't go tumbling over and over again. They blew their car horns and cheering in their cars as they made their way towards the drifting section.
The homestretch was around the corner. Those who tuned in were on the edge of their seats to see who was going to make it to the finish line. This part of the race in particular Jacob and a few tech experts did special. Reflexes were paramount to avoid the engine disablers shooting out and shutting their cars down. The real challenge was staying in drift mode the whole time.
About halfway through Gateway C, with so much sweat and adrenaline coursing through them, Herman's palms slipped off the wheel and were going in circles. One disabler latched onto the front bumper of his car as he took hold of the wheel to keep himself from flipping over. In the end, him seeing Paul and Tiko drifting back and forth past his upside down car had him hitting his elbow in frustration against his door. It wasn't long now with them drifting over and under each other like ice skaters. The outside entrance to the airport had people walking around it with the finish line four feet from them. Drawing closer and closer for first place, Paul popped the clutch and drifted around Tiko by the skin of his teeth past her front car light.
They made it to the end with Paul as the victor. Ruthie commentated with immense enthusiasm saying, "There it is! Paul "Neo" Abernathy takes the win for Wardill! Prep your DVRs, folks; the final slot for "Rooftop Warriors" has been filled. Ted Abernathy, if you're watching this, Shivington will be heralded as the champion town this day. I'll be touching down in a tick to nudge elbows with our star racers."
"Now that is a race!" Tiko laughed as she ran out and hugged Paul.
"Hell yeah, that's what I'm talking about! We kicked ass out there." He said with relief in his voice.
"Hey, hey;" Jacob shouted meeting up with the others with a phone in his hand.
"That was some awesome precision with those disabling devices." Tiko praised Jacob.
"It's good to have connections to the Stilwater PD. Oh I got Chris and Herman on speaker."
"You guys alright out there?" Paul asked over the phone.
"My head fucking kills!" Chris shouted, chuckling soon after. "My foot slipped off the gas pedal. Stupid…"
"We'll be alright. My step brother's going to kick my ass, but I'll be fine. Who won?"
Not a moment too soon, all three were graced by the Scottish Kenneval of '07. She praised everyone on their efforts in the race and sent paramedics to help Chris and Herman with their injuries. She told them the next episode of "Rooftop Warriors" was definitely going to take place in Stilwater. They all cheered from the news. She then interviewed them one last time on what they were going through the extreme motions, especially during the Cabbit section of the race. Tiko interjected by suggesting that they preferred if their discovery were to remain behind the closed curtains they were built in. Chris was the only one out of the five who knew how to capture one.
As for Paul, he spoke of how his heart was racing going through the foot long tube tilting back and forth, but the rush couldn't be put into words he told her. When they went back to their cars to anticipate next Saturday's big day, Ruthie gave her viewers the location of the race in Southern Cross: a neighborhood near the Barrios District. It had a variety of tall and short buildings that went on for eight blocks. Cars were going to be flying and somersaulting through the hellish obstacle course she had planned. After the 411, she told her camera crew to get back to the helicopters for takeoff as she walked over to Paul seconds before he took off himself.
"Mr. Abernathy, might I have one last word before you scoot?"
"Uh…sure; I'll meet you guys later after I see my dad." Paul told Tiko and Jacob. "What's going on?"
"I'm going to be frank with you. Your story about your father losing his job to Ultor broke me heart a little. Let's just say I know a thing or two about backstabbing from those bastards."
"They gave your show bad press or something?"
"It goes deeper than that." She said before whispering in his ear. "Can you keep a secret?"
Later in the afternoon, Paul left the airport before the craziness of the cops ensued throughout the runway, demanding answers as to why a race took precedence in the first place. All that was left was a few loose screws and more takeoff delays as the cops kept trying to piece it together. Either they were too slow to get to the airport in time, or Paul's crew worked double time to dismantle the course. In any case, Paul blasted music in his car on the way back home when Jane Valderamma gave a news update on the events at Wardill. For an Anchorwoman's ability to knock down barriers with her persistence for news, she has been breathing down the Mayor's neck to authorize the "Rooftop" race in Southern Cross. Whereas in other news, the Siltwater PD kept kicking themselves for not meeting their "race junkie" quota of the week.
As soon as he got back to Shivington, things were quiet around the Abernathy household. He parked in the garage and went inside to see if his father was around. He called out to him in the kitchen, then the living room where the TV was still on about the events at Wardill. He then found a note on the coffee table saying, "As soon as you read this, wait ten seconds. You'll see…" All of a sudden, Paul heard an engine all too familiar back when his dad was still working for Legal Lee.
Like Ultor, they had questionable practices, but good taste in cars. Paul went out front to see a side he hasn't seen in quite some time. From the look of things, he kicked the habit and broke in a car he only drove once and never forgotten the ride. He dressed down with a million dollar smile on his face as he congratulated his son for pursuing his number one passion in life.
"I got to say son. You and your friends put on one hell of a race today."
"What's with the Hayate Z70; Legal Lee taking you back?"
"I lent it to a buddy of mine, had him keep a eye on it until I got out of my personal rut." Ted replied admiring his car. "Joel Andrews '97; that case won me this car. I didn't get it by skirting around the law either. That's why it took me longer." He said as both chuckled. "Yeah, but it was worth it. I took your mother out in this car for our 24th Anniversary. It didn't matter if a gang war was happening; this baby moved like a dream."
"I wish she was here to see this." Paul told him.
"Paul, telling you my story of what cost me my job felt the most freeing thing I had done in years. I've been in a goddamn stupor so long, I had forgotten how it felt to say "fuck it" and move forward."
"Now you're talking like you're from Stilwater." He said patting his back.
"Seeing your race on TV opened my eyes to what you can do on the street circuit. It's like you've inspired me again. These last few months wouldn't have been easy without you."
"You my dad, we look for each other."
"I uh… have been a lousy father to you; crappy husband to your mother. When I had hit lucky sixty in my cases I thought regardless of a few losses, nothing could stop me, not even Ultor."
"You'll get them back, dad. Anything's possible in this city." He assured him.
"But how to do it the smart way is the real question. I'll worry about that later. What do you say we go out to eat? Spend some father/son time together."
With all the nerves and adrenaline leading up to the Wardill race, the cherry licorice Paul had wasn't enough. His stomach was tied up in knots and growling suddenly for some Charred Hard Burgers and some chili cheese fries. However, as distractions keep popping up when least expected, another familiar face rolled into the Shivington neighborhood, riding a red-orange Cosmos with one of the most short fused drug dealers yet loyal at the same time. Everybody in Stilwater knew him as Tobias, among other names that made the name callers meet the business end of his gun…and then some.
"Hey, you're the Abernathy kid, right?"
"Tobias, that you?" Paul asked walking over to his car. "What's happening dawg?"
"I bought this car off my friend, Kenny a few months back. I heard what happened to him; my condolences."
"Thanks man, I appreciate that." He replied looking around the car. "I had no idea he was into Sedans."
"He was whenever we rolled together. Hey, congrats on winning a spot on that extreme racing show. It's about damn time Stilwater is seen for more than its gang violence and...my violent tendencies."
"You gonna be there?" He asked.
"Hell yeah; Saints Row's going to be there too. Give them a good show, you hear me?"
"You got it." Paul replied fist bumping him. "I got some celebrating to do with my dad. I'll catch you later, man."
"Take it easy, bro! I'll be seeing you soon." Tobias said putting on his shades and driving off.
Paul went back with his dad as they drove off for a celebratory lunch at Charred Hard Burgers. In Stilwater, it was the second largest fast food place next to Freckle Bitches. On the ride over, Paul still had some questions in his mind over what Ruthie told him before he left. Ultor had its share of financial screwing with her as well. They had been trying to shut down her show since day 1 due to being the driver's wet dream of doing something the cops wouldn't arrest them for.
Ted made some bad choices since his falling out as a lawyer, and now Paul was going to have to make a harder choice. Sooner or later, he'll have to decide on what's right, and what is justified as right. He tabled those questions at the back of his mind as he kept his focus on the race in the days to come. Having Saints Row watching how he got shit started wasn't so bad either he thought. For now, things were gravy.
21
